


What Happens in Safehouses

by fabrega



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Cabin Fic, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:24:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8967097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: The last few years, Gabe Reyes has had a sort of Christmas ritual. This year, Jesse McCree crashes it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/gifts), [super](https://archiveofourown.org/users/super/gifts).



> Happy holidays, you guys. <3

The last few years, Gabe Reyes has had a sort of Christmas ritual. He makes sure that his people and all his Blackwatch business are taken care of--who's taking leave when, who's getting what bonuses, who ought to be rubbing shoulders with who at which holiday parties--and then he leaves. Officially, he is performing a routine yearly inspection of the local Blackwatch safehouses. Unofficially, he packs a bag, takes a book he's been meaning to read and the bottle of liquor Morrison always gives him around the holidays, and hunkers down in his favorite of the safehouses for a few days. It's a snug little cabin with a real fireplace and a pantry he makes sure is well-stocked, within a day's journey of HQ. He's got his comm on him, and if somebody needed the safehouse or if he was needed back at HQ, he'd be happy to vacate. Usually, though, Blackwatch leaves him alone, he manages to read his one book a year in a large armchair by a crackling fire, and the world doesn't fall apart without him. It's nice.

It's not looking like this year is going to be any different. He packs a bag, bundles up and makes it to his cabin--the safehouse--without incident. He knocks the snow off his boots, hangs his coat and his holster by the door, and gives the fireplace a once-over before stacking and lighting some firewood and starting a kettle on the stove.

Outside, it looks like the snow is picking up.

He makes a cup of cocoa and settles in with his book.

*

It's late afternoon, the sun sinking low in the gray sky and the wind and snow rattling the shutters, when Gabe looks up to the sound of pounding on the door. He's made three cups of cocoa (and only let one get cold) and he's four chapters into this year's book (the Nadiyrian delegation had just cornered the Martian ambassador and revealed that they weren't Nadiyrians at all, but actually Balasi shape-shifters pretending to be Nadiyrians, a twist Gabe hadn't quite seen coming), and between being engrossed in his book and the general noise of the weather outside, it doesn't register right away that what he's hearing is someone knocking.

When it does, he carefully puts down his book and his cocoa and moves across the room to where he'd left his comm, keeping his eyes on the door. He glances down at it, still facing the door--no messages, but also not a lot of signal. He grabs the gun from his holster and aims at the door before heaving it open.

His visitor immediately throws up their hands. They are wearing a large coat with a Blackwatch logo on it over what looks to be standard Blackwatch cold-weather tac gear. Gabe's eyes are drawn to their hands, where they're wearing knitted gloves that he recognizes, bright red with a white pattern around the wrist. He recognizes them because he made them himself; they were a gift for--

"McCree?" he asks incredulously. 

The fur-lined hood nods, and Gabe pulls him and the bag he's holding into the cabin and shuts the door behind him before they lose all the warm air. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asks as McCree pulls his gloves off and tries to breathe some warmth back into his fingers. "Don't you spend the holidays with the Amaris?"

McCree makes a grumbling noise and starts to peel off his snow gear. "Not exactly invited this year--well, it's a standing invitation, but with Fareeha headed off to basic this year, tensions are high in the Amari household, and I didn't think my being there would help." He shrugs a little helplessly. "I'm here because they told me you were stuck doing safehouse inspections over Christmas and thought you might like a little company."

"Not how missions work, McCree."

"Not how Christmas works either, boss." He's still breathing onto his hands and shivering a little, and against his better judgment Gabe grabs him a warm blanket from the sofa by the fire and starts the kettle again. McCree gives him a surprised look but does not protest.

"Christmas like this works just fine for me," Gabe says. He's standing in front of the stove, watching the kettle, and he raises his voice when he talks, expecting that McCree will have settled in by the fire. But no, when he turns to see, McCree is standing in the kitchen with him, wrapped entirely in the big, warm blanket Gabe had given him, leaning casually up against the counter like his presence in Gabe's cabin--safehouse--hasn't thrown Gabe off his stride in more ways than one. "And you're leaving first thing in the morning."

McCree makes that surprised face again, and Gabe frowns.

"I'm not sending you out into this storm in the dark. I might be a _Grinch_ \--" he stresses the word sarcastically and rolls his eyes, "--but I'm not a monster."

The kettle whistles, and Gabe spoons some cocoa mix into a clean mug with a Blackwatch logo on the side and pours hot water over it. He stirs it briefly before handing it over to McCree, who cradles its warmth in his hands, holds it up under his face and breathes in the steam coming off of the cocoa.

"I'm actually impressed you made it here in this storm, after that snafu last winter."

McCree snorts. "You get lost in a snowstorm in the mountains _one time_ and nobody ever lets you live it down..."

"They found you walking in circles about twenty meters from camp."

"It was _dark_! And I grew up in the _desert_!"

"And that's why you're not getting kicked out until the morning." Gabe gives him a gentle shove. "Go sit, warm up. It's cold out there."

McCree smiles at him gratefully and heads for the couch. Gabe idly cleans up the kitchen--moving the kettle from one burner to another, rinsing off several spoons he'd used for cocoa, wringing out and hanging up the dish towel--and then makes his way back into the living room.

McCree is curled up on the sofa, his head propped against one overstuffed arm of it, his eyes closed. Gabe finds himself smiling, and he moves around the living room straightening things too, moving the bag McCree had brought into the bedroom next to his, poking the fire, sitting down next to McCree to tuck the blanket down around him--and what the hell, he's already sitting down and his book and his cocoa are in reach. He might as well just stay here, right? And if McCree shifts in his probably-not-sleep and tucks his feet under Gabe's thigh and Gabe doesn't say anything, well, it's probably just that he's too engrossed in his book to notice.

*

It's fully dark outside and Gabe has read another chapter, not distracted by anything at all, when McCree finally lifts his head and looks around in half-awake confusion. Gabe feels McCree's feet shift beneath him, but they stay firmly put instead of withdrawing like Gabe expects.

Gabe glances up from the page he had been pretending to read (the actual Nadiyrian delegation has appeared and the summit has been thrown into _chaos_ ). McCree's expression is something between a blush and a dare.

Gabe summons all his self-control and stands up. "You hungry?" he asks. "We've got enough good food to last me three days and enough rations to last a small team two weeks."

"Guess I'm having rations, then?" McCree sits up on the sofa, twists and stretches, his back and neck cracking as he does. 

Gabe catches just a flash of bare skin and turns quickly to grab the poker and shift the logs in the fireplace. He says, not turning away from the fire, "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

*

Dinner turns out to be half a serving each of the pasta Gabe had intended to make for himself, supplemented with a hearty side of ration bars. He's certainly had worse meals holed up in safehouses, and the company's good--McCree manages to mostly stay out of the way while Gabe moves back and forth across the kitchen, preparing the pasta. He regales Gabe with tales from past holidays at the Amari household and drunken antics from this year's Blackwatch holiday party, the one that Gabe had felt Too Official to attend for more than twenty minutes. (It sounds like he'd missed quite a party, but who knows if Agent Riemann would've even gotten drunk enough to get up on the table in the first place if her commanding officer had been in attendance.)

"So how about you?" McCree asks around a mouthful of pasta. "How do your holidays usually go?"

"Well, I tell people I'm going out to perform the yearly inspection of the local Blackwatch safehouses, and then..."

McCree laughs. "Okay, fair enough." He goes quiet for a moment, takes another bite of pasta. "I didn't realize this was a thing you did at the holidays. Guess I'm always already gone by the time you head out for your little chalet getaway."

"It's a cabin--no, a _safehouse_ \--"

"Whatever it is," McCree interrupts, "Seems mighty lonely."

Gabe shrugs. "You spend as much time as I do with other people, McCree. Don't you ever want some time to yourself?"

"Guess I didn't think of it like that." McCree looks down at his plate, then up at Gabe with an unconvincing smile. "I'll be out of your hair in the morning, then."

*

The next day is Christmas Eve, and the morning comes and goes without McCree leaving, because when he tries to, they find that they've been snowed in. This is fine; they have Gabe's supplies, plus the safehouse's stock, and if it comes to it, they can get signal back to HQ and get an extraction. Gabe reads his book and tries not to notice the way McCree moves nervously around the cabin like he's waiting for something. (When he's not pacing, he sits on the sofa next to Gabe, slightly too close, with the excuse that they can share the blanket that way.) They have ration bars for lunch, and for dinner they each have half of a very good steak that Gabe had been looking forward to. They crack open Morrison's liquor, too, and after not _nearly_ enough of it to actually impair either of their judgments, McCree ends up in Gabe's lap.

Gabe closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths. "Who put you up to this?"

McCree blinks at him in apparent surprise. "What do you--nobody put me up to this, what're you talkin' about?"

"You really trekked all the way out here, on _Christmas_ , to fuck with me? I honestly thought you were better than that." 

(Gabe knows he ought to push McCree off his lap, but he can't quite bring himself to. It's another moral failure, just like the crush he's been nursing on McCree for a while now. He thought he'd been hiding it pretty well, but not as well as he'd thought if Morrison or Liao or maybe even McCree himself was willing and able to use it to fuck with him like this. The lonely old commander with the crush he can't have, being offered the thing he wants and then having it taken away. Very funny, guys. _Hilarious_.)

"You think I'm joking." McCree rocks back--still sticking to his fake surprise, Gabe notes, even as he struggles not to move his own hips into the motion.

"Of course you're joking," Gabe says through gritted teeth. "In what world would you not be joking?"

McCree's eyes move across his face, studying him, and Gabe scowls back. _Fuck my life_ , he thinks, _fuck all of this_ , and then McCree leans forward and kisses him. It's soft but insistent, one of McCree's hands coming up to rest along Gabe's jaw.

" _Oh_ ," is all Gabe can manage to say when McCree pulls back.

McCree smirks a little, leans back in to rest his forehead against Gabe's. "Oh?"

"Oh," Gabe repeats, smiling.

"I really did come out here at first to keep you company, because I like spending time with you. That someone like you would even spend time with someone like me--"

"What, a bitter has-been spend time with a rising star of Overwatch?"

McCree looks genuinely shocked. "'A literal hero' and 'a guy who's lucky he didn't die in jail' is what _I_ meant. Jesus, Reyes--"

Gabe is not proud, but he kisses McCree again to shut him up. McCree ( _Jesse_ , Gabe tells himself, _he can let himself call McCree Jesse now_ , because if this doesn't put them on a first-name basis, he's not sure what will) tilts into the kiss as Gabe tries to pull him closer, his hands moving from Jesse's face to his shoulders to his torso almost of their own accord. McCree-- _Jesse_ \--makes a soft noise against his mouth as Gabe slips his fingers up under Jesse's shirt to find and explore the skin there. He breaks free briefly and pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, giving Gabe more skin to touch.

Gabe must look as gobsmacked as he feels, because Jesse stops abruptly, concern on his face. 

"Should I...put my shirt back on? I know we're sort of rushing into this."

Gabe manages to shrug. "It doesn't have to be a thing. You know what they say--what happens in the safehouse stays in the safehouse."

Jesse eyes him skeptically. "Not sure that's a thing they say, and even if it was, maybe I _want_ it to be a thing?" He ducks his head, a little embarrassed, and Gabe smiles.

"Maybe I do too. Maybe we start here and see how it goes?"

"You're okay with this?"

Gabe huffs a laugh. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

"You're the one with a lot more to lose," Jesse says quietly. Gabe raises an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. "I've thought about this a lot, about whether it would be worth it even to try, or if you'd turn me down right away or transfer me out of Blackwatch altogether."

"Never," Gabe breathes. He's been good while they've talked this out, kept his hands to himself even though Jesse is still sat squarely on his lap. Now he leans forward to kiss him again, to run his fingers up and down Jesse's still-bare torso. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Jesse smiles against his mouth. He'd been good too, but now he shifts in Gabe's lap, grinning as he feels Gabe's dick twitch under his ass. "Good," he says. He grabs at Gabe and starts to pull off his hoodie and t-shirt.

Gabe leans up and away from the back of the sofa to help, up into Jesse's space, kissing along the line of his neck and down onto his shoulders and collarbone.

Jesse reaches for Gabe's waistband, hesitates, looks to Gabe for confirmation. Gabe nods, and Jesse moves back slightly on Gabe's lap to undo his zipper. Gabe shimmies a little bit so that his pants and boxers are resting around his thighs, his dick springing free.

Jesse reaches down between them and wraps his fingers around it, and Gabe moans. Jesse makes a pleased noise and shifts his grip a little, running his thumb up over the tip, and Gabe moans again, his hips bucking up so that Jesse's hand moves along his length. 

A little embarrassed by how eager he sounds, Gabe reaches for Jesse's waistband only to be gently turned away.

"Let me do this," Jesse says in his ear, so instead Gabe leans in a little, greedily running his hands along Jesse's bare skin, murmuring all the affection and adoration he's felt but been unable to say for all this time against Jesse's neck, noticing how Jesse goes pink and pleased at the words.

He comes sooner than he expects, and he digs his fingers into the skin of Jesse's back as he shudders through his orgasm, eyes closed. He stays like that for several long moments, breathing heavily, Jesse's skin under his fingers, Jesse's forehead against his own.

He opens his eyes and smiles. "Hi."

Jesse grins at him. "Howdy."

Gabe makes a face, but Jesse just laughs.

"Was that okay?"

"More than okay. Is it--did you want--"

"I got what I wanted," Jesse assures him. "We've got plenty of time."

Later, he grabs Jesse by the wrist and pulls him into the bedroom, sets him on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of him, licks a slow stripe up his dick and watches as he trembles, then takes as much of him as he can into his mouth. Jesse throws his head back, and his fingers curl into the sheets and then, tentatively, carefully, into Gabe's hair. He comes, hot and wanted, down Gabe's throat, Gabe's name on his lips the best thing Gabe has heard in a long time.

Jesse collapses back onto the bed, and Gabe climbs up to join him. 

"Okay?" Gabe asks.

Jesse nods, a slightly loopy smile on his face, and he pulls Gabe in to kiss him again.

*

They fall asleep together in Gabe's bed. Jesse, as always, sleeps like the dead, so Gabe is able to sneak out to get some breakfast started in the morning. Before he goes, he tucks the covers back around Jesse, a fond smile on his face.

He's at the stove, making the eggs and bacon he'd brought for himself and trying to figure out how to make it stretch enough to feed two, when he feels a pair of arms wrap themselves around his torso and chin rest itself on his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas," Jesse says in his ear, a smile in his voice, and yeah, Gabe realizes, it is.

***

The next year, even though he's scheduled to go with Gabe to check out the safehouses over the holidays, Jesse disappears from base a few days before Christmas.

"If I'm not back when you want to leave, go without me," he tells Gabe. "I'll catch up."

Sure enough, Jesse's still missing when it's time to leave. Gabe knows what he'd been told, but he still waits around an extra hour or two in case, checking and rechecking the bag he has with enough supplies for two of them, the wrapped Christmas present he's spent probably too much time on over the last few months. Still no Jesse, and Gabe heads out into the cold alone.

When he gets to the cabin, the chimney is already smoking. He's worried for a moment that someone else's team may be actually _using_ the safehouse, for actual Blackwatch business, but when he opens the door, Jesse is waiting for him inside. The whole cabin is decorated for Christmas, lights and tinsel and candles and an honest-to-god Christmas tree. Even Jesse himself is decorated for Christmas, with a string of blinking lights around the edge of his hat.

Jesse beams at him. "Don't get me wrong--last Christmas was a pretty nice time. But I thought that this year we could do with some real holiday cheer. What do you think?"

Gabe looks at Jesse and feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. He's not sure what he's ever done to deserve this, but he is going to keep it for as long as he possibly can.

"Are there lights on your hat?" he says aloud, making his voice a little gruffer than necessary to hide the emotional waver he's sure is there.

"Absolutely there are," Jesse says, looking proud. "There were more earlier, but they had to be plugged in to the wall and I decided that I valued freedom of movement over festive cheer. I'm betting you haven't noticed yet why that's important." He motions with a nod towards the ceiling, and Gabe looks up--he's standing under some inexpertly-hung mistletoe.

Jesse strides across the room and kisses him.

When he pulls away, Gabe digs around in his bag for the gift he'd brought. He had originally intended to save it for Christmas, but now, he feels like he can't wait. He hands the wrapped present to Jesse and watches as he pulls the wrapping paper off and holds the contents up to survey them.

"This is... this is truly something, Gabe," Jesse says.

"It's an ugly Christmas sweater," Gabe explains. It is _truly_ ugly, a thing that Gabe can say because he made it himself. It's red with white and yellow patterns: yellow pine trees around the top; the white interweaving pattern from Jesse's serape around the chest and out onto the arms; an alternating red and yellow ring of bullets around the stomach; and around the bottom, a yellow wreath surrounded by tiny yellow Peacekeepers. In the middle, it says BAMF, just like the belt Jesse likes to wear. It's ridiculous, but honestly, no more so than the lights currently on Jesse's hat.

"I love it," Jesse says. He pulls it on over the shirt he's wearing, then tugs Gabe close and kisses him again.

*

They spend Christmas day on the sofa in front of the fire, Gabe with his book and Jesse with the book Gabe had been reading last year, Jesse's legs across Gabe's lap. It's peaceful, and perfect, and Gabe wishes that every Christmas could be like this.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be honest, I had [this post](http://ruushes.tumblr.com/post/154480271216/slides-blizzard-a-fistful-of-crumpled-monopoly) open in a tab while writing this and then Jesse with the sweater and the lights just...showed up. Howdy Christmas, everyone.


End file.
